January 14, 2010

Ed note: For the next several weeks, composer and film aficionado Lewis Saul has agreed to supply us with in-depth commentary about the films of Akira Kurosawa, now showing in an extended festival at the Film Forum. Even if you're unable to stop by the Forum, we think Lew's insights will deepen your appreciation of these important movies.

PLAYING January 17th at The Film Forum209 W. Houston St. New York, NY 10014Box Office: (212) 727-8110

This is Kurosawa's 12th film.

In Stuart Galbraith IV's brilliant Kurosawa/Mifune biography (sadly out of print) The Emperor and the Wolf, he gives the chapter on this film the following title:

"MISSTEP" [p. 143]

A little unfair, I think, because if Kurosawa had had what we call today "director's cut," we might be speaking about one of the great film masterpieces of our time! I truly believe that. Let's roll the highlights:

The massive and completely unexpected success of Rashomon (In the Woods) [1950] (January 28th) was of course a life-changing event for Kurosawa. Before more or less settling down at Toho (where Kurosawa's filmmaking roots were), he realized a lifelong dream by doing this Shochiku project -- converting Dostoyevsky's masterpiece into (hopefully) one of his own...

Kurosawa (in 1990): "There is no other author who is so gentle; I mean the gentleness that makes you want to avert your eyes when you see something really dreadful, really tragic. He has this power of compassion. And he refuses to turn his eyes away. He looks straight into it and suffers with the victim; he is more God than human." (Galbraith [p. 143])

So reverential did AK feel about this material, that he apparently decided to adapt it as faithfully as possible from novel to screen. Other than transposing the action to modern-day Hokkaido, the planned film version would be like a literal echo of the original novel. See if this sounds familiar, Doesty fans:

"Traveling by train to snowy Hokkaido, Denkichi Akama/Rogozhin (Toshirô Mifune) has a chance meeting with Kinji Kameda/Myushikin (Masayuki Mori, five films with AK). Akama is struck by the man's peculiar if saintly and compassionate demeanor. Kameda had been mistaken for a war criminal and came close to execution before it was determined that he was the wrong man. The ordeal drove him mad; suffering from epilepsy, he spent time in an asylum and was released after being declared an 'idiot.' Akama is in love with Taeko Nasu/Nastasya (Setsuko Hara), to whom he once gave a diamond, but she has agreed to an arranged marriage with Mitsuo Kayama (Minoru Chiaki). Kayama, in turn, agrees to marry her in exchange for ¥600,000, and in so doing must sacrifice the woman he really loves, Ayako/Aglaïa (Yoshiko Kuga). Ono (Takashi Shimura), a distant relative of Kameda and Ayako's father*, invites Kameda to stay at his home. There Kameda falls in love with both Taeko and Ayako. The women fall in love with him as well. He prefers Taeko, however, and she eventually gives herself emotionally to him. Akama, jealous that he cannot have Taeko for himself, stabs her. He and Kameda, driven to insanity, sit near her dead body under a blanket, amid flickering candles." (Galbraith [p. 144])

These are the facts:

Kurosawa's original cut ran 4:25. Presumably, he intended it to be shown in two parts, a common practice at the time.

Shochiku insisted and AK cut it down to 3:00.

This 3:00 version was shown once, the premiere at the Togeki Theater in late May of 1951.

Without Kurosawa's participation, Shochiku further cut the film to its present 2:46.

This means that we are missing 99 minutes of Akira Kurosawa's intended film. Many films clock in at around the same time as the destroyed celluloid from this movie.

The most common question on the
internet concerns the missing footage. People want to know if it is
"lost" and there are excruciatingly pitifully hopeful cries that
someday the magical 4:25 version will be ours to sit back and watch on
DVD. Uh-uh. Ain't gonna happen. The footage was destroyed.

Kajirô Yamamoto, Kurosawa's mentor: "Kurosawa sent me a long letter in which he literally poured out his anger with the studio. It seemed as though he could not control it. He went so far as to write that if they wanted to cut it, they might as well do so lengthwise -- from beginning to end. When it was finally released -- in its cut form -- I have literally never seen Kurosawa so furious." [p. 145]

And no wonder. The 2:46 version is a gigantic mess, there is no other way to put it. In place of the missing footage, Kurosawa inserted as many intertitles as he could, to help explain what was missing. They only frustrate the contemporary viewer who must sit, read and imagine how much destroyed celluloid this particular intertitle must represent!

Therefore, with all this understood, my own personal inclination is to ignore all reviews of this film by anyone -- Richie and Galbraith, included. (Galbraith seems to have two main complaints: a) that Dostoyevsky's internal dialogues would never translate well to film and; b) that setting the film in Hokkaido somehow would confuse the viewer).

The fact is, all the reviewers are correct in stating that this film is ... gee, what's a good synonym for "a mess"?

Therefore, let us not review it. Instead, let us write an imaginary review about an imaginary movie which could have been one of the greatest book-to-film transfers of all time if Kurosawa had been given a chance. From time to time, I intend to make clumsy educated guesses about where the greedy Shochiku execs made their cuts.

I would speak more about Goodwin if I could find the book. It's buried somewhere in this messy studio.

So, to Galbraith's complaints (above): a) even with 99 missing minutes, my sense is that most of the characters are pretty well developed. I will agree that Taeko Nasu is underdeveloped; we know next to nothing about characters important in the novel (like Tohata [Eijirô Yanagi] or the Kayama family [especially the drunken father!]) ... and perhaps much of the latter was cut -- there are a curious number of wipes in that section ...

and b) Perhaps not as slick as Ran (Chaos) [1985] (playing February 5-18 at The Film Forum), but nevertheless if Lear and his daughters [sons] can make such a believable transition to Japanese culture and characters, certainly our imaginations can move the Russian action in this story to northern Japan without too much trouble. And without too many cuts.

The other complaint (Richie is generous with this one) concerns the over-acting. Certainly both Mifune and Hara play these characters as larger-than-life, and it frequently seems quite over-the-top. Imagine just 15 minutes more of character development for each, however (that would still leave over an hour of cut film!) and you can see that it might not have seemed so weird.

It is particularly disconcerting (or perhaps exhilarating) to see Hara overact -- we are used to seeing her as the demure daughter in Ozu's great masterpieces. Is it possible that Kurosawa was trying to get her to purposely move in the opposite direction from what her public would have expected?

Mifune's overacting doesn't seem nearly so out of place. In Rashomon, made just a year prior to this film, Kurosawa had him making large, exaggerated gestures, as in a silent film. (Kurosawa grew up watching silents and never lost his appreciation for them. See my notations throughout this series about the various stretches of dialogue-free filmmaking!)

About Kurosawa's use of music. With a few major exceptions, I generally have a severe, unchanging dislike of the way Kurosawa used music in his films. (This is my opinion, duh. It doesn't subtract too much from my passion for his films, double-duh.) In this instance, I can hear him telling his composer (the great Fumio Hayasaka, eight scores with AK before his death in 1955) to "give him something along the lines of Grieg's "In the Hall of the Mountain King" ... and perhaps poor Hayasaka-san came back with something more or less original and Kurosawa might have said, "no, no -- make it sound more like the Grieg" ... and this is what we get. It's awful. And it never stops. My sole criticism remains equally severe throughout this film. There are moments where Hayasaka's own music comes soaring through and it is beautiful. But if you are not completely sick of this Grieg by the end of the film, you're a better (or perhaps calmer) human being than I am...

The Japanese orchestra is still (1951) just as out-of-tune as they were in the 1947 film Subarashiki nichiyobi (One Wonderful Sunday) (January 19th). The really good players were working in the cafés, pulling down "black-market" paychecks!

The conjecture that AK intended the 4:25 version to be seen in two parts is borne out (in my opinion) by the two-part structure in the film ~ Part 1/Love and Agony (1:33) and Part 2/Love and Loathing (1:13).

After the "Part 1" subtitle, there is a short shot of the locomotive, with another subtitle: "Hokkaido, December" as it blows its whistle in a heavy snowstorm. Cut to a couple of pairs of boots stashed away in some little niche. Dissolve to a slow dolly down to a group of sleeping passengers; another dissolve to a closer view of sleepers ... suddenly a scream -- the camera doesn't react at all -- but the people do. They wake up/cut to another group waking up, a closer shot/cut to a three-shot, very close ... and then cut to Kameda, obviously waking up from a bad dream. But the framing in this shot is amazing: Kameda is visible only to the bottom of his nose. Covering his mouth and the entire center of the frame is Akama's leg, bent at the knee. The apparent geometry of this shot suggests that Akama is sitting directly across from Kameda. He uncrosses his leg and we realize he is sitting next to Kameda, not across from him, as it seemed from the initial shot! Trompe l'oeil!

Intertitle I: how Dostoyevsky was trying to portray a "good man," in a world where goodness equals idiocy. It is hard to imagine what footage might have been cut up which necessitated this intertitle. Perhaps we were to see Kameda doing things and getting to know him better -- but we are still on the train. The action picks up as

Akama is holding Kameda's hand as he leads him down the aisle of the train. He pulls a man (Karube [Bokuzen Hidari] -- one of my absolute favorites in the Kurosawa-gumi, seven films) out of his seat: "Get up! This man is sick!" (Only later to we realize that this man is one of Akama's cronies ... his banker, actually!) Akama laughs, which introduces

Intertitle II: "Akama hadn't laughed in years. He was the son of an old Sapporo family ..." Five minutes and 23 seconds in, and already two intertitles. And we're still on train -- this is still Scene One! Sheesh ...

The train pulls into the station and [wipe] a CU on a pair of loudspeakers. A plaintive Russian song and the narrator says: "Another snowstorm in Sapporo."
There is a short section of life in Sapporo at this point -- and something worth noting:

COOL FACTOR: As he did the previous year in Shubun (Scandal) [1950] (January 24th), Kurosawa uses his camera to film objects which create their own "wipes." Watch the horses, carts, etc. as they move left and right past the camera's lens, creating organic visual wipes!

The shot of Taeko Nasu's photograph, with Akama and Kameda's images
reflected in the window, left and right of the photo, is gorgeous --
and the [Russian] music here is actually perfectly suited to the scene --

Much material from the novel is condensed here with a few lines from the narrator. This belies the claim that Kurosawa was unwilling to make cuts in the adaptation ... otherwise, we should be reading an intertitle card...

Intertitle III presents information about how Ono has basically ripped off Kameda's property. Put in the best possible light, he is "holding it in trust" for Kameda. It is certainly possible that this represents a good chunk of missing footage.

In a scene which lasts all of 15 seconds, Ayako throws a snowball at Kayama. He smiles. Here, Kurosawa commands Hayasaka to literally quote the stupid Grieg piece.

Intertitle IV tells us about the conflicted Kayama, who is about to marry Taeko Nasu for ¥600,000, although he secretly loves Ayako. Again, although impossible to know for sure, I would imagine that there was a good deal of footage, the destruction of which necessitated this card -- for the personality of Kayama is so thin in the 2:46 version.

Moments like this make me feel that Kurosawa must have really tried very hard to make something coherent out of this mess. In this scene, featuring Ayako, it is obvious that Kurosawa wants us to get to know her personality and character as soon as possible. What we've already missed about her in cut/lost footage is, of course, a complete unknown. Thankfully, the previous intertitle is the last one!

Accompanied by the sound of sleigh bells, Ayako and Kameda are riding on a sled down a snowy path. It looks like a farm, with silos in the background. Very short clip, only four seconds. A wipe left and the two are walking in the snow, looking at some cows. She asks him what he would think if this farm were "all his." He doesn't understand her, and she laughs. Wipe right and the two are walking towards the camera in a cow stall. She tries again: "... these cows may be all yours." Him: "I'm afraid I don't understand." She laughs again.

Wipe left and we are treated to a scene of nearly three minutes in length! They are walking on a path with massively tall wintery trees on both sides. In this scene, Ayako strives to understand Kameda's "illness." He explains the near-execution to her and she reacts with horror. The sound of wind...

And now comes one of my favorite wipes: a double-wipe: a wipe left followed immediately by a door being pushed opened to the left! It seems like two wipes in succession, very cool...

As Ayako's mother teases her, Kameda blurts out whatever comes to his mind. Yes, Ayako is beautiful, but so is Taeko Nasu. This upsets mother who orders Kameda to go and fetch Kayama for an interview.

The drama builds as Kayama and Kameda misunderstand each other; Mrs. Ono scolds Kayama with a frightening sarcastic tone; Ayako shares Kayama's love letter with Kameda and Kayama is furious as they walk home together.

Kurosawa uses the traditional cinematic devices (wipes, cuts, fades, dissolves, etc.) in many different ways, but his use of the Fade to Black (FTB) is pretty consistent with ordinary filmic storytelling ~ here, he closes out Act I with a

FTB #1

Open on Kayama Inn. One can only speculate on what must be missing here. This is the family business, yet we learn next to nothing about it, other than the fact that Kameda is renting a room there.

Hara's entrance is magnificent. The doorbell buzzes and Kameda goes to answer it. He looks at her; music; she's brushing off her coat, she looks up at him -- AXIAL CUT, close -- she turns around to see if he is staring at someone behind her perhaps -- another axial cut and she asks him to announce her. He turns to leave, but she can't imagine how he knows her name.

When she comes in and hands her coat to Kayama, Kurosawa has the scene beautiful blocked: Taeko, Kameda, Kayama (who is standing in front of his mother) and Kayama's sister, Takako (Noriko Sengoku). To me, this scene is the proof that the a) part of Galbraith's complaints (that Dostoyevsky's internal dialogues would never translate well to film) would have ultimately been overcome. After Taeko says, "introduce me," Kurosawa ratchets up the tension with a series of close-ups, as Takako and Taeko stare each other down, with Kayama continually turning his head from side to side!

"I'm glad you came," she bows to Taeko."Are you really?" Taeko asks, honestly.

The tension is interrupted by the sound of the drunken father (Kokuten Kôdô), who introduces himself in a short scene bookended by horizontal wipes.

At this point in the film, Akama and his cohorts come crashing into the inn with ¥1 million. I suspect cuts here, as the whole scene feels a little jumpy. And of course, the drunken father gets a lot more character development in the novel. He is an interesting character who is non-existent in the film.

When Kayama slaps Kameda, the music swells and as Mori squeezes out a tear, one cannot help but feel that this is meant to be a "Christ-like" depiction. He forgives Kayama; he tells Taeko Nasu that he thinks of her as a pure virgin and she invites him to her birthday party tomorrow.

FTB #2

Lively music. The camera faces the back of a large wicker chair which shows the back of Taeko as she stares out the windows at the never-ending snow ... Tohata speaks with her, many wipes as she begins to get drunk, many close-ups, and suddenly a cut to an external dolly shot of everyone dancing inside the warm home. (Hayasaka's music is excellent here!)

Kameda enters and breaks a valuable vase (we can't invite these "idiots" anywhere these days, can we?). As he begins to get a scolding from Tohata, she points out that he gave her the vases as a present to do with as she likes, no? Naturally, she smashes the matching vase, just to make things even...

Another wipe (who knows what we've missed?) and we're talking about Taeko's eyes and how they remind Kameda of a guy who got killed. The execution story (with wonderful sound effects and a lonesome sax standing in for a bugle) is riveting and Kayama's interruption -- "This is supposed to be a birthday party!" is as funny as it is disingenuous.

After she asks Kameda whether or not she should marry Kayama, and he says that she should not, Kurosawa plays with the expressions on everyone's faces -- to great effect due to the rapid pace of changing events! Tohata is delighted, and moves to the bar to fix himself a drink. There is a wonderful bit of business with Kayama and Ono as he never quite gets the alcohol into the glass, which he drops in shock as he learns that Taeko Nasu has no intention of marrying him. Ono gets to smile at that point. Finally someone screams as Akama and his gang again show up to freak everyone else out! [Wipe right.]

One million yen.

"But what do you mean, 'a woman like me.' I don't understand," Kameda pleads, like a little child, as the rest of the room chuckles at his "ignorance." Watch how Kurosawa shows one of Akama's group -- a young woman, presumably a whore -- who keeps looking up at Kameda with an expression on her face which might be saying, "dude, are you for real?"

Taeko's seeming impulsive decision to burn the money is nicely shown as she grabs the money from Karube and hands it to Akama. But seeing the way Kayama is standing there sipping his champagne, she seems to be suddenly inspired to her bizarre scheme!

He faints and she gives him the money -- this is sort of reminiscent of the scene in Zoku sugata sanshiro (Judo Saga II) [1945] (January 18th) when Sugata gives the Japanese fighter who was defeated by the [evil] American, Star his prize money.

FTB #3

"February" Not much to do but have family arguments. Ayako leaves in a huff (1:05:51), comes back at 1:06:23, leaves again at 1:06:36 and comes back at 1:07:39, pissed.

I love the snow which comes crashing down off the roof, followed by a wipe.

All this talk about Kameda being in Tokyo suggests lost celluloid, do you think?

The tea with mom is one of my favorite scenes -- the music-box music is enchanting, a welcome relief from the Grie ... nevermind ... everything seems okay for a moment ...

Then the terrifying quintuple axial cut on Mifune, ending with just his eyes.

Note the Theremin accompaniment to the attempted knife attack. End Part I.

FTB #4

At one point, Kayama says, "I am a mere employee [of the Ono family]." It is apparent that Kurosawa was unable to keep enough of that stuff in the final cut. The whole relationship is sorely un-shown.

The ice festival's pretty cool, but the Mussorgsky (Night on Bald Mountain) is so annoying. Plus, there were no doubt quite a few cuts in this section, which seems to be pivotal concerning the love triangle...

FTB #5

The detritus from the night before. He falls asleep on the bench. She is furious. She tries to make him jealous about Kayama. "We meet here all the time. JUST ASK THIS BENCH!" [What a great line!]

The shot of Ayako and Kameda talking, taken from behind the fireplace, is magnificent!

FTB #6

The two women are going to meet face to face. Akama nervously opens a music-box which plays "The Anniversary Song." More corny music.

There is another wonderful period of silence lasting over three minutes (2:11:24 - 2:14:37).

Akama's madness at first seems to make Kameda seem completely normal. It doesn't take long, however ... one of the nice call-back tricks here is how Mifune's Akama is suddenly holding his hands around Kameda's head the same way Kameda used to do to others (and listen to the nice repeating bell sound!)...

Galbraith quotes Yoshiko Kuga (second and final AK role; her first was as the adorable girl who conquers TB in Yoidore tenshi [Drunken Angel] {1948}, January 23rd) concerning the part where she has to bang out a few notes on the piano:

"[Kurosawa] spent an entire day on the scene, shooting me over and over, finally telling me, 'Kuga-kun, why didn't you tell me you could not do it in the beginning? I would not have hired you! I say this not because you can't do it, but because you're just not trying!' On the next take I pounded the keys with great emotion and he was finally satisfied. Shooting wrapped for the day, and I saw Kurosawa by the studio gate. He said to me, 'Kuga-kun, I know you had a hard time today. You have to come to work early tomorrow morning. Why don't you take a bath and get some rest?' I burst into tears. I really thought 'shit!' (during filming). The more he scolded me, the more I thought 'Shit!' When I look back on my career, I believe that 'Shit!' has helped me." [p. 147]

There are 41 wipes in this film, all horizontal: 22 to the left and 19 to the right.

~~~

* In both this synopsis and the detailed film credits, Galbraith has "Taeko's father" or "mother." Obviously, he meant Ayako.

Comments

Ed note: For the next several weeks, composer and film aficionado Lewis Saul has agreed to supply us with in-depth commentary about the films of Akira Kurosawa, now showing in an extended festival at the Film Forum. Even if you're unable to stop by the Forum, we think Lew's insights will deepen your appreciation of these important movies.

PLAYING January 17th at The Film Forum209 W. Houston St. New York, NY 10014Box Office: (212) 727-8110

This is Kurosawa's 12th film.

In Stuart Galbraith IV's brilliant Kurosawa/Mifune biography (sadly out of print) The Emperor and the Wolf, he gives the chapter on this film the following title:

"MISSTEP" [p. 143]

A little unfair, I think, because if Kurosawa had had what we call today "director's cut," we might be speaking about one of the great film masterpieces of our time! I truly believe that. Let's roll the highlights:

The massive and completely unexpected success of Rashomon (In the Woods) [1950] (January 28th) was of course a life-changing event for Kurosawa. Before more or less settling down at Toho (where Kurosawa's filmmaking roots were), he realized a lifelong dream by doing this Shochiku project -- converting Dostoyevsky's masterpiece into (hopefully) one of his own...

Kurosawa (in 1990): "There is no other author who is so gentle; I mean the gentleness that makes you want to avert your eyes when you see something really dreadful, really tragic. He has this power of compassion. And he refuses to turn his eyes away. He looks straight into it and suffers with the victim; he is more God than human." (Galbraith [p. 143])

So reverential did AK feel about this material, that he apparently decided to adapt it as faithfully as possible from novel to screen. Other than transposing the action to modern-day Hokkaido, the planned film version would be like a literal echo of the original novel. See if this sounds familiar, Doesty fans: